When in Rome
by Winter1066
Summary: The musketeers are sent on a mission during a heat wave. What sort of mischief can they get into. Entry for the August Fete de Mousquetaires challenge "Heat"


Thanks to my great beta Spacecowboy

 **When in Rome**

 ** _"_** ** _Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back."_**

 ** _\- Plato_**

The road to Paris was dusty, hot and still. Not a breeze stirred as the four weary horses plodded along, their riders equally blazing in the mid-afternoon sun. Athos removed his hat and wiped his face with his scarf. He couldn't remember the last time the weather made him feel so feverish. He sighed as the unrelenting sun forced him to put his hat back on to keep from squinting, then glanced behind him to see how the others fared.

Porthos had his eyes closed with his hat pulled down low, trusting his horse would follow the others. Aramis sagged in his saddle, mopping his face with his shirt sleeve. Earlier, Athos cautioned Aramis to remove his leather coat and pauldron when he turned an alarming shade of red. The marksman's color was better now and Athos no longer feared he'd pass out.

He turned last to d'Artagnan. How the Gascon could suffer the blazing sun without a hat amazed him, and he made a mental note to talk to the younger man about acquiring one.

Athos turned forward and checked their surroundings. "If I remember correctly, there's a lake not too far from here," he said.

"I believe you're right," agreed Aramis. "If you take the left fork further ahead we should be able to see it."

"The horses could use a break," d'Artganan added.

"To 'ell with the horses," Porthos said with a snort. "I could use a break."

Athos nodded, tapping his knees to his horse's side. He moved forward, letting the horse set the pace and allowed his mind to wander back to that morning. An image of their Captain's slackened jaw and wide eyes brought a smile to his face. He obviously hadn't expected them to volunteer for this mission.

Several hands where raised when Treville had put out the call at morning muster, and when Athos took it upon himself to pull rank and volunteer the inseparables, Treville had turned speechless. It was a meaningless mission, and with the sweltering heat, even Athos' cohorts had turned to him in surprise.

When their captain had regained his senses, he'd said only two men were required and they could sort it out amongst themselves as he'd walked away shaking his head.

Athos smiled. When Aramis had stopped their captain and explained why all four of them had to go, Treville's expression was nothing short of surprise mixed with a little frustration.

Athos was pulled from his thoughts when d'Artagnan laughed. "What?" he asked, turning to the Gascon.

"I was just recalling the look on the captain's face," d'Artagnan said with a smile.

"You were reading my mind," Athos remarked.

"Not sure he appreciated being told that the two left behind would get into mischief," Porthos groused.

"But you know it's true," Aramis said with a sigh. "Leave it to me to get into all sorts of mischief."

"I just think the captain agreed because he didn't want to stand in the sun arguing," said Porthos, shaking the collar of his shirt to create a breeze.

"Either way, it got us out of Paris," Aramis pointed out. "You should be thanking me. There's nothing worse than a crowded city when it's this hot."

Athos' lips turned up at Porthos boisterous laugh. It was true, Aramis could get into all sorts of mischief when bored, and there truly wasn't anything worse than being trapped within the walls of Paris and all its sweaty inhabitants grumbling about the heat. Treville knew it also, so sending all four was the lesser of two evils.

At the fork in the road, Athos' horse pricked up its ears, so he turned left where it seemed to want to go. The horses smelled the water and were eager to get there. Athos couldn't blame them, them and their riders were all covered in a foamy sweat from the long ride.

The lake, calm and blue, appeared through the trees and the former Comte turned his horse toward it as the others eagerly followed.

"Don't let them run to the water," d'Artagnan warned.

"Really?" Aramis said, smiling. "I was going to let him guzzle the whole lake."

"I didn't mean…." d'Artagnan stammered.

Porthos swatted Aramis with his hat. "Ignore him, he's teasing."

Athos smiled as the Gascon glared. Sometimes d'Artagnan forgot they were seasoned soldiers and would remind them how to take care of the horses. Coming from a farm in Gascony made d'Artagnan think he knew more about horses than they did. The younger man probably did, but they would never admit it.

They arrived at the lake and let the horses drink their fill. When they were finished, they tied them up in the shade and removed the saddles. Aramis removed his weapons and placed them next to his saddle before walking to the lake for a drink. The marksman knelt on the bank, cupping his hands to get a drink and splashing water down his neck. Athos glanced at Porthos to see him smiling and poking d'Artagnan. Everything seemed too easy, leading Athos to sense trouble in the making.

"Ahhhh!" Porthos yelled, charging towards Aramis.

Athos cringed as Porthos picked up the smaller man and threw him into the lake. Aramis had little time to prepare as he flailed, hitting the surface of the lake and disappearing into its depths. Athos wasn't too worried since Aramis was an excellent swimmer, but fretted over what the retaliation would be.

Aramis broke the surface sputtering and pushing wet hair off his face. Porthos and d'Artagnan were on the bank staggering with laughter.

Athos bit his lip to stifle his own amusement as Aramis stalked from the water looking more like a drowned rat than an expert musketeer. It was even harder not to laugh as Aramis' boots made squishing noise as he walked. Athos couldn't help chuckling as he turned to the ones responsible for Aramis' soggy situation.

D'Artagnan was bent at the waist with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Porthos' head was thrown back as he roared in delight.

But Aramis didn't join in the laughter, instead stalking towards his weapons. The hair on the back of Athos' neck stood on end, his skin tingled as Aramis stared at his sword then back at Porthos.

"He's not laughing," d'Artagnan observed. "You said he'd think it was funny."

"It's Aramis," Porthos said with a nervous chuckle. "He likes a good prank."

"Usually" Athos commented. "But perhaps you took it too far."

Aramis was always a good sport about practical jokes, taking them in stride with a laugh as he accepted defeat, but there was something about his countenance as he picked up his pistol, checked to see if it was loaded, that caused Athos to tense. D'Artagnan was staring at the soggy marksman, inching backward, and even Porthos began to fidget under the glare and whispered cursives coming from Aramis.

Athos was about to say something when Aramis slowly bent forward and placed his pistol on the ground then began pulling off his wet clothes, throwing them angrily to the ground. When he was standing in his braes, chest heaving, he picked up his pistol again and turned toward the others.

"Easy, Aramis," Athos soothed. "It was only a joke."

D'Artagnan swallowed hard. "Truly, it was all in fun."

"Brother," Porthos said, holding up his hands, palms out as he backed away.

Aramis clenched his empty fist as he stalked toward Porthos with his pistol raised. Athos prepared to grab the marksman when suddenly Aramis dropped the weapon.

The marksman ran into the water, yelling, "woohoo!" then dove under the surface with a splash.

Athos, d'Artagnan and Porthos shared looks of raised eyebrows and furrowed brows, then the Gascon quickly stripped off his clothes. Porthos followed d'Artagnan's example and they were soon in the water chasing, unsuccessfully, after Aramis, smiling and laughing as the refreshing water cooled their skin.

Athos shook his head then chuckled softly. "When in Rome," he said, pulling his shirt over his head before running into the lake.


End file.
